Hold
by Reminscees
Summary: "'I love you,' Alfred breathed. It all fell into place. Arthur inhaled a shaky breath through his open mouth. 'I know,' Arthur replied frantically, voice almost cautious and hoarse."


Hold

Alfred was thrown into wakefulness the moment he heard the door of his office in the embassy slam. It was raining outside, torrential downpour. Arthur's uniform was slightly wet, too, Alfred noticed as he saw Arthur step inside with military-like strides. He shook his umbrella, droplets falling to the floor, and threw his officer's cap on the small chair beside the door.

"Hi," Alfred began, smiling slowly and spinning idly in his office chair.

"I need to fetch some papers, you should have looked over them by now." Arthur explained, pulling off his gloves and walking towards Alfred's desk, "Churchill said it would be best to get them directly."

"It's late." Alfred replied after a pause, "You could have called," He ran a hand through his hair nervously. "I could have sent them over. I mean, it's a full moon -"

"I know," Arthur interrupted, "I thought it would be best..." He stared at Alfred. It was as though he was expecting him to answer a question he had not asked.

"I thought it would be better to see you." Arthur finished, and he exhaled a shaky breath.

"It's really late." Alfred choked out, frozen as he stood numbly.

There was a flicker-Perhaps more than a flicker.

"Yes," Arthur said after a pause. His words were tired and hollow.

The rain created a steady rhythm in the resulting silence.

"Did you..." Alfred started, unsure of where to place his hands, "You flew out yesterday, didn't you?"

"Yes," Arthur let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"How was it?" Alfred asked hesitantly, "Clear skies?"

"It was alright," Arthur replied.

"Okay," Alfred answered, and smiled hollowly.

He fumbled inside of a file.

"Here," He handed Arthur a paper, "I've made some notes."

"Thank you," Arthur said.

Alfred sighed loudly in the silence. "Everything's gone wrong, hasn't it?"

"Perhaps," Arthur mumbled, "It's a war."

"It is," Alfred nodded. "Are you alright?" He said after a pause, pointing to Arthur, elbow resting on his desk, and closing one of his eyes to squint at him.

"I don't know," Arthur laughed dryly, "I'm unhappy."

"Why?" Alfred asked, spin shooting up straight in his chair, "With me?"

"No," Arthur said calmly, "I'm not. It's merely the war."

"'Merely'..." Alfred hushed, "I'm not thrilled about this either."

"I know," Arthur said, closing his eyes and tilting his head slightly, "I do. I wish you weren't here," He said slowly, "But I'm relieved you are. You have no idea how bloody relieved I am that you're here, too." He laughed once more, strained and hoarse. Alfred swallowed thickly.

Arthur could feel his side sting.

"This is a nice office." He continued, tone awkward and unsure.

He let his gloves fall on the table.

"Very spacious." Arthur said, and Alfred blinked curiously.

"I guess so," He stammered in response, "I got new furniture in, since I'll be staying a little longer than expected."

Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"For the war." Alfred clarified.

"How appropriate," Arthur drawled, and Alfred was unsure whether his words were meant to sting and burn in the way they did. Alfred watched his eyes flicked around the room, turning slowly and observing it fully.

"Yeah," Alfred said suddenly, a little too loudly, perhaps, "It's nice."

Arthur hummed in agreement.

He touched his side, tenderly. It was damp. His stomach sank.

His hand was red.

"What's wrong?" Alfred asked, "Again? Jesus, Arthur, you're a wreck-"

"I'm not a wreck," Arthur snapped, "I merely...," He swallowed, averting his gaze and dropping his head, "Do you have any bandages?"

"No." Alfred said, "You're...," Alfred stammered, "Are you even healing?"

"Of course I am," Arthur said exhaustedly, "I... I'm tired. I haven't gotten sleep since the raid. It's only a flesh wound. It won't scar."

Alfred nodded.

"You're leaving soon, aren't you?" Arthur asked.

"Yeah, to the Pacific." Alfred answered.

"Ah," Arthur replied, "You're almost home then, aren't you? That'll be nice," He smiled sadly, "You've been in London a while regardless." He shifted around the desk, Alfred followed his fingers dance elegantly over the wood, to stand in front of Alfred, chin jutted up towards him and smiling slyly.

"Do you want me to leave?" Alfred asked.

"No." Arthur answered.

"I'm glad."

"Are you?" Arthur inhaled a breath as Alfred carefully trailed his hand over Arthur's wrist, as pale as a clean piece of marble. He could feel the rapid pulse beneath Arthur's scarred skin. It matched his own.

"Yes," Alfred whispered, "I wish I could stay, I don't... I don't want to leave you. Not like this."

"What?" Arthur stared at him with surprise, "Don't be absurd, I'll be fine. I've survived perfectly well without you for long enough, you took your time coming here, and I'm truly fine-"

"That's just the thing. You're not. Not _really_ ," Alfred answered, gesturing to the blood stain, "You know that."

" _Alfred_..." Arthur warned, glaring at him wearily.

"Yeah, yeah," Alfred smiled sadly, "I get it. I'm being stupid," He laughed, "I'm being stupid, ain't I?"

"Perhaps," Arthur murmured, and he licked his lips as Alfred dropped his hands to his side, cautiously stepping away from Arthur.

"You're going to Bletchley soon, aren't you?" Alfred asked after a pause, shuffling through his papers.

"Yes," Arthur answered, "I thought... It might be better if I wouldn't be in combat, or so one tells me." He inhaled a tired breath.

"That's good," Alfred nodded, "Gives you a break, doesn't it?"

The rain rattled outside.

"Will you say goodbye to me?" Alfred blurted, "Tomorrow, at the docks?"

Arthur laughed, a strained sound from the bottom of his throat. "I don't think so, Alfred." He said, "That would hardly be professional."

"Yeah," Alfred swallowed thickly, ignoring the pressing feeling on his chest, "Okay."

Arthur ran a hand through his hair idly.

"I think it would be best if I leave," Arthur spun on his heel and snatched his gloves from Alfred's desk, "It's late and I... I have a meeting early in the morning." He placed his officer's cap on his head, neatly, with a certain familiarly that hurt Alfred.

"Sure." Alfred replied numbly as he watched Arthur stand by the door and open his mouth, as though he wanted to say something but simply could not. He turned the door-handle.

"I hate it," Alfred said loudly to Arthur's back, "I hate this."

Arthur froze.

He slowly turned his head to look at Alfred over his shoulder.

Alfred swallowed.

"It's been so long," Alfred said tiredly, eyes fixated on Arthur's, "And in the end...," Alfred hitched his breath, "I... I still can't look at you."

"Why would you," Arthur moved towards him, "What are you even talking about?"

His eyes seemed haunted.

"This is real," Alfred said, "This is happening," He stepped towards Arthur. "Stop pretending that this isn't happening," He trembled. "You're the only one who could make me stay and I... There's no one..," He paused. "There's no one else." Alfred exhaled, his voice heavy.

"What do you mean?" Arthur said cautiously.

"I don't," Alfred stammered, "I don't want to... Fuck," He voiced, and caught a hand in Arthur's hair, knocking away his officer's cap. He clashed his mouth against Arthur's, eyes firmly shut, with bruising force, lips sliding against Arthur's as Arthur gasped. Unsure of where to place his hands, he gripped Arthur's shoulders, pulling him towards Alfred. Their teeth hit, messily, and Alfred could feel the wet fabric of Arthur's uniform seeping through his skin.

Arthur was frozen.

Alfred pulled away after a long moment, and stared down at Arthur, at his dishevelled hair and swollen lips, at the slight flush over the freckles on his cheeks. His heart was painfully tight in his chest.

"You'll ruin me," Arthur breathed out, reaching towards Alfred with urgency, breath hot over Alfred's lips, "You're absolutely mad."

"Fuck," Alfred whispered, and pressed his lips against Arthur's, glasses inching into Arthur's cheek. He pulled Arthur towards him by his waist, with bruising force, as Arthur tilted his head towards Alfred, opening his lips and breathing harshly through his nose. He wrapped his arms around Alfred's shoulders, fingers lacing themselves into Alfred's hair and the fur collar of his bomber-jacket, pulling him closer as Alfred licked and bit Arthur's lips. Arthur complied, tangling his tongue with Alfred's and gasping at the needing groan Alfred released as he thumbed at Arthur's wrist and kneaded at the small of his back, down to his backside.

It was graceless, and never elegant or romantic-They simply fell into one another. Alfred groped clumsily and blindly as Arthur breathed Alfred, starving and desperate breaths. He tasted like rain, Alfred thought, and bitter, too, like tea and gunpowder and metal and smoke.

"Shit," Arthur bit as Alfred pushed him against the wall of his office, Alfred's heat suffocating him and surrounding him, completely, as Alfred ground up his hips towards Arthur. Arthur spread his legs, invitingly, and trailed his fingers over Alfred's arms, eyes fluttering closed and letting his head hit the wall. He pushed back, smiling slyly at the loud groan released from Alfred. Arthur traced a finger over Alfred's cheek and jaw as Alfred clumsily fumbled with Arthur's trousers, and his own, in rushed movements. Silently, Arthur leaned down to take off his boots and step out of his trousers and underwear. Alfred mirrored his action, shrugging off his jacket.

Arthur could feel Alfred's sharp gaze on him as he kneeled on the floor, stripped from the waist down. Quickly, he stood, leaning on the wall once more, and Alfred lifted Arthur, allowing him to wrap his bare legs, skinny with pure muscle and bones, around Alfred's waist and hips, crossing his feet. Alfred held onto his thighs, the rough pad of his thumb stroking along the skin.

The motion was tender.

Arthur felt his throat close as he locked eyes with Alfred, watching him stammer for words.

"What?" Arthur asked sharply.

Alfred opened his mouth once more, though quickly leaned towards Arthur to peck his lips.

"Stop it," Arthur hissed, pushing him away, "Tell me what the fuck is going on."

"You swear too much," Alfred laughed, "It's funny."

Arthur frowned at Alfred as he let his gaze wander, down Arthur's skinny torso, his muscled abdomen and pelvic ridges, to the darker, wiry hairs below. Alfred fluttered his eyes, breath fast and short as the rhythm of his heart pounded in his ears.

"I'm a sailor," Arthur said, "I always have been."

It was too much.

Arthur reached out, scratching lightly through the golden, smooth hairs of Alfred's head with one hand, and circling the other around Alfred's length, their eyes meeting for a long moment before Alfred moaning and trembled, clashing their lips together. Arthur drew his hand lazily, long and slow to leave Alfred pant inside his mouth as he tightened the hold on Arthur's thighs, jolting up towards his grip, grinding onto Arthur's own cock.

Arthur's hushed string of curse words on Alfred's lips left a fiery imprint into Alfred's memory.

It felt intimate.

Arthur wound an arm around Alfred's neck, pulling him closer, lungs burning and screaming for air as his pulse thrummed in his ears.

Alfred pulled away first, it was needed, he gasped for air that seemed secondary to Arthur's needing groans and moans.

"Stop," Alfred said hastily as Arthur canted his hips.

"No," Arthur breathed, "I want you, I-"

 _I don't want you to leave._

"I do, too," Alfred corrected himself, "I want to... I just want to this right."

Alfred let Arthur fall, slowly, as his words tickled Arthur's skin.

"I don't care if it hurts," Arthur said casually, groin aching for release.

"I do," Alfred said, pulling Arthur to the sofa on the other side of the office, locking the door on the way. He pushed Arthur down on the furniture. Curiously, Arthur watched Alfred fumble and search in his briefcase for a small bottle. He shrugged off his uniform shirt and tie as he moved back towards Arthur. Shyly, he placed the bottle on the floor and sat in between Arthur's legs, his fingers creating patterns on his skin.

"Okay?" Alfred asked.

"Honestly, Alfred, what the hell are you-"Arthur started, silenced by the sensation of a slicked palm along the underside of his cock. Alfred curled his fingers around him as Arthur bit his lip.

"Stop it," Arthur grabbed Alfred's wrist, painfully, "Enough," He said hoarsely.

He sounded desperate. He didn't care.

Alfred licked his lips, an unsure emotion flickering in his eyes as he angled his hips and positioned himself at Arthur's entrance, arching himself over Arthur's body as he trembled, only slightly. He moved, slowly, and it burned. Alfred's breathing shuddered little breaths in Arthur's hair, his head hanging low over Arthur's. His hand wrapped around Arthur's waist, scarred and wrapped in bandages. It was gentle.

"Fuck," Arthur said, "Don't stop, don't fucking stop." His breath was gasping and hoarse, leaning back to watch Alfred, every minute change in his expression embedded in his memory- the slackening of his jaw, the tightening of his brow.

Alfred groaned, hips stuttering as his body bowed towards him. It was a deep noise that jolted Arthur's core, his face contorted as though he were in agony, eyes firmly closed. Arthur bit his fist to stop himself from crying out, eyes half-mast.

Alfred stopped.

"Hey," Arthur said, tracing his fingers over Alfred's slick jaw, the sound wrung from the base of his throat as Alfred stilled, sweat dripping down his fringe and face flushed, "Alfred." Arthur repeated, lungs contracting as Alfred leaned his head down and rested his forehead against his.

"Come on," Arthur gasped, "Come _on_ ,"

Alfred fluttered his eyes closed, breathing heavily as he felt Arthur's pulse pump shrilly around his cock, potential energy flowing in the sheer stare Arthur's gives him, he can feel it prickle on his skin, all stalled momentum. He wasn't breathing, not anymore, and his blood thundered hard as he gasped, breath hot and heavy on Arthur's lips, and slowly opened his eyes.

His nerves sparked and his heart stopped as he saw Arthur hitch his breath and for a brief moment, he could pretend that Arthur was his, and that he was Arthur's, too.

"I love you," Alfred breathed.

It all fell into place.

Arthur inhaled a shaky breath through his open mouth.

"I know," Arthur replied frantically, voice almost cautious and hoarse.

Alfred smiled, slowly, and then all at once.

He just let himself go, falling into oblivion- dark and silent and complete- as he tightened the hold on Arthur's hip bones, skin burning into Alfred's fingers, and Arthur drew in a shaky breath, mouth opening and muscles trembling.

Alfred moved, and Arthur rocked back, a reflection of one another, gasping and baring his throat to Alfred as he threw his head back, fingers imprinting into Alfred's shoulders and back, his nails leaving red and angry trails.

Alfred groaned, loudly, and Arthur smiled sharply at the noise, lifting his head to slide his lips over Alfred's, mouth open and hot, stealing Alfred's breath and never returning it, diving in deeper and licking at the back of Alfred's teeth, shining and white. Arthur clenched tightly around his length and Alfred swore, sound swallowed by Arthur's lips, and stumbled, stopping his clumsy, misplaced rhythm, as though there was something not quite right about kissing Arthur while fucking him.

It was as though it did not _quite_ fit together.

Alfred could feel Arthur moan deep inside the marrow of his bones, the sound vibrated into Alfred's mouth as he reached forward and stroked him, his large palm holding Arthur with a sense of confidence and security that he could sink into the dark knowing that he had told Arthur he loved him, and Arthur _heard him._

Arthur gasped, scratched into Alfred's skin as he felt Alfred spill into Arthur's shaking frame, shortly before he came, _hard_ , against Alfred's skin.

Arthur pulled away first. He breathed, shallowly, tasting air once more, and it tasted like acid in his lungs.

It was lacking something.

Alfred grabbed him, slipping out of him with a hiss. Arthur frowned, and watched him stare down at Arthur, knees balanced on his sofa. He bit his lip- A nervous habit.

Arthur sighed, and turned to lie on his side.

Alfred shifted, burying his face into Arthur's neck and wrapping an arm around him, chest flush against Arthur's back.

Arthur stared forward. He could feel Alfred's heart beat.

"Did you," Arthur started, "Did you mean what you said?"

"What?" Alfred asked.

"That you love me." Arthur answered, gaze fixated at a point in front of him.

"Yeah," Alfred replied, "I do. Is that bad?"

Arthur swallowed thickly.

"You're lying," Arthur settled on.

"I'm not," Alfred brushed his lips against Arthur's neck, the juncture of his shoulders.

"You are." Arthur corrected, " _Love_ ," He licked his lips, "Love isn't real. We're nations, you surely can't... You don't even..."

"That's not true," Alfred traced a pattern against Arthur's arm, his touch smouldering, "I know love is real because I feel it."

"You're a fool," Arthur exhale, his voice a rush, muffling the hammering between his lungs.

"Yeah," Alfred replied, his voice low, "Do you believe me?"

"I...," Arthur bit his lip, "I don't know."

"That's okay." Alfred burrowed closer towards Arthur's body. His heart was calmer, slower, quieting itself as he held Arthur, eyes fluttering closed and breathing steadily against Arthur's neck and back. For a brief moment, Arthur thought that he must follow and seek out the underlying current of the lack of race, the lack of speed and the sense of familiarity and rationale he felt while being held by Alfred, skin golden and as shining as that damnable smile, the only piece of his being that never faltered or wavered or threatened to give way, the only piece of Arthur's _life_ , even- It was Alfred, and only ever Alfred.

He was here.

Arthur pressed closer, and reached out to place his hand over Alfred's, resting on top of Arthur's arm.

Arthur sighed out of his nose, harshly, and Alfred pressed his lips against Arthur's skin in a silent justification that he heard, that he _understood_. His breath was no longer even as he mouthed down Arthur's collarbone, his fingers lilting against Arthur's skin and tracing freckles, scars, marks, down the map of his veins and settling onto his heart.

Arthur laced his fingers with Alfred's.

He dreamed of death.

In his sleep, Alfred tightened his fingers around Arthur's, and the contact tethered him to reality once more, painfully so.

He stayed.


End file.
